Trailer Trash Beginnings
by DemonaTheDarkOne
Summary: What if Logan and Marie had met under different circumstances? AU before the first movie.
1. Chapter 1

FIC: Trailer Trash Beginnings

PAIRING: Rogue (Marie)/ Wolverine (Logan) sorta

SUMMARY: What if Logan and Marie had met under very different circumstances?

RATING: R - Dark theme

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters unless stated otherwise. Please do not sue, you will only acquire my debts - which I have plenty.

NOTES: PLEASE READ BELOW

This was written in response to the challenge issued by Diebin. The complete challenge can be found here: http/whitetrash. Also, thanks Nicca for going over this for me. I greatly appreciate it:) 

WARNING! Please read before continuing. This story contains two scenes that are attempted rapes of a minor. Please keep in mind that neither rape actually takes place, but it is written that they are attempted on an underage Marie. If this offends you, or bothers you, or is not your cup of tea, please - please - please don't read it.


	2. Chapter 2

For Disclaimer and Notes please see First Chapter

June 2000  
Marie, age 15, 5 months

"Marie, you're up," Helen, the head waitress, called from behind the counter. I glanced over my shoulder to see who she was referring to and frowned slightly when I saw the lone man sitting in the booth in the corner. He looked a little rough from where I was standing and I imagine it was more so up close. I quickly finished stacking the clean plates and grabbed my pen and pad off the counter before  
heading over to him. He sensed me coming and looked up as I approached his booth.

He was wild looking. His hair stood up in all directions. He had these huge muttonchops that no one grew out anymore. And most of all, his entire demeanor screamed that he was dangerous and to leave him alone. The urge to turn around and let one of the other women handle him was fairly strong. But he locked those hazel eyes on me and the intensity of that gaze, even for that brief moment before he shifted his eyes, was so intense that it made my heart race. Never before had a man looked at me like that. But the moment was so short that I convinced myself that I had to have imagined it.

"What can I get for you?" I asked him, as I pressed the tip of my pen in the pad in my other hand.

"Hamburger. Two of them. As rare as you can get them. And a Coke. And you better bring over an ashtray too," he gruffly got out. I quickly wrote it down and then started to walk away when he reached out to stop me. I instinctively flinched away from him and something, something close to guilt and/or pain, flashed across his eyes. But it was quickly dismissed and he pulled his hand back.

"I'm not going to hurt you, kid. I just wanted to add some fries to that," he quietly told me. I nodded, quickly, and headed back to the counter to place the order.

I quickly rewrote the order and put it up for the cook and then headed over to grab the guy's soda. It was a relatively slow afternoon. Between Helen, Tracey, and I we had the place very much under control. We had roughly two tables a piece and between running small errands for them we had absolutely nothing to do. I filled the  
glass up, grabbing an extra ashtray off the counter, and headed back over to his booth. I set the soda down in front of him and then the ashtray. He grunted and I took that as a thanks' and possibly as a go away'. Either way I didn't comment and I went back to busying myself behind the counter doing odd jobs. I kept an eye on my other table. But since it was Rudy, a regular of mine, I knew that he  
would be sitting there, not needing my assistance or presence for awhile.

Sam hit the bell to let me know that the guy's order was ready. I looked up from the other side of the line, immediately in front of him, and glared.

"Was that really necessary, sugar?" I commented and he smirked at me.

"You know it's policy," he replied and I rolled my eyes and shook my head at him.

"Whatever you say, boss," I lightly replied, but the smile was creeping onto my face even though I tried to keep it down.

"I see that smile, Marie," he teased me as he headed back to the grill. I grabbed the two plates that held the guy's hamburgers and fries and then headed over to his booth. He was silently smoking a cigar in his little corner. And he was eerily silent, saying nothing, reading nothing, just staring off into space. I slid the two plates onto the table and then spoke.

"Is there anything else that I can get for you at the moment? Or are you good?" I asked him and he looked over his food and then up at me.

"I'm good," he told me and I nodded, forcing a small smile, and then started to walk away. "Marie," he called after me. I turned back to face him and waited. "I got it from your name tag," he explained and then muttered, "which is crooked", almost too low for me to hear. But I heard it and raised an eyebrow, slightly pissed. I forced  
myself not to automatically fix the nametag that hung just above my left breast.

"Yes?" I questioned and stared at him. He looked like he was about to say something but then he changed his mind.

"Thanks," he quickly got out and then reached for his food. I gave him a slight nod and then walked away from his table.

I must have had an upset look on my face when I returned to the counter because Helen immediately came over.

"Is he giving you a hard time, hon? Cause I can send Sam over there to straighten him out," she immediately informed me. I shook my head no and smiled slightly at her.

"No, Helen, he isn't bothering me at all. He is just a little strange. Gruff and grouchy. I get the feeling that he doesn't deal with people too often is all," I explained to her with a shrug and an easy smile. The truth was that there was something drawing me to the man, but I couldn't for the life of me explain it.

I waited until about five minutes after he was done with his lunch before I headed back over with a fresh soda for him. He had completely devoured both the burgers and all the fries. And there were hardly any crumbs left on his plate at all.

"You all done?" I asked him, setting the new soda down on the table, and I couldn't stop the small smile that crept to my face at my stupid question. He looked up at me and nodded. "Good. Anything else I can get ya?" I inquired as I stacked the two plates together and grabbed the near empty original soda glass.

"Check will be fine," he replied and I nodded.

"I'll be right back with that for you," I stated and headed away.

I put the dirty plates on the sink ledge and put the glass in the glass rack overhead and then headed back up front. I quickly pulled out my notepad and rung up a receipt on the register. I headed back to the booth where the guy was sitting and set it down on the table.

"I'll take that whenever you're ready. Or you can just bring it up to the register and someone will take care of it for you. Either way have a good rest of your afternoon," I explained to him and he looked up and held my gaze for a few seconds. I forced myself to break away, looking at the wall right above the spikes of his hair, and  
then left him with the check.

I didn't see him leave, but when I came back out from the kitchen's pantry Tracey had the check and the money for the bill. I looked at the bill and then looked around for the guy.

"Where'd he go?" I asked as she handed it over to me. Tracey smiled at me like a cat smiles as a trapped mouse.

"He left. Just handed me the check and the money. Told me, in minimal words, to let you know the change was for you. Damn girl. What exactly kinda service did you give him that would get you that kinda tip?" She teased me and waited for an answer. Again I looked at the check and the money he left and then just blushed because it was insane.

"I didn't do anything," I told her and she looked doubtful. "I swear. I wasn't even that friendly to him," I repeated myself and then walked away.

Tucked in my apron was a $37.43 tip on a $12.57 order.

It was two weeks later when the guy showed up again. Once again it was completely out of the blue. He went to the last booth and sat alone. I wasn't really waiting on customers that day. Sam had allowed me to come in and help him cook, while Helen and Tracey handled the floor. I helped out where I could without really dealing with the customers.

It was a little after two in the afternoon when Helen came calling for me.

"Marie," Helen called from the front counter. I leaned slightly to my left to peer out of the kitchen and locate Helen.

"What?" I asked her while keeping an eye on the food cooking in front of me.

"You've got a customer. Sam is coming back to finish that for you," she informed me. "So get your apron back on and get out here," she added.

"Helen. I told you that I'm not working the floor today unless you absolutely need me. It isn't that busy out there," I argued with her. Sam came through the kitchen door a minute later and made shooing motions to get me out of his way. Reluctantly I moved so he could take over on the grill.

"I realize that it isn't busy out here, but you have been requested. And I don't think that he is going to take no for an answer," she explained and I shook my head. I really hoped it wasn't Rudy. He was a regular of mine, but should I not be in or not working the floor he was generally fine with other people waiting on him.

"Who is it? And why couldn't you explain to them that I'm not waiting tables today?" I asked her as I came out of the kitchen. I grabbed my apron from the table next to the door and started to carefully pull it on.

"Corner booth," was all she would tell me. She kept looking at me funny, almost like she was trying to suppress a smirk or something. Something was definitely up though. I took a deep breath as I gathered my pen and paper before heading over to the end booth. I kept my head down slightly, turned just enough away from the  
customers that they couldn't see my face. I had accidentally run into something the trailer late last night and my the right side of face was swollen and turning colors.

I walked up to the booth and my breath caught slightly in my throat when I recognized my customer as the same man that had left me a huge tip a few weeks ago. He looked up at me, a start of a smile on his face, which quickly died and was replaced with a look of anger. I flinched slightly at the look and unconsciously took a step back from him, putting a little more room in between the two of us. At my  
actions he quickly schooled his features back to a mask of indifference.

"What can I get for you?" I managed to get out. The look he had just given me shook me to the core. I had seen that look of anger and hatred all too often from my oh-so-loving boyfriend's face.

"Same order as last time," he replied after a moment. I tilted my head to the side and paused a moment. The motion caused my hair to fall away from the bruise and I saw his eyes check out my face. But when I looked down at him, ready to call him on it, he looked me in the eye. I let it go with a small sigh.

"You do realize I have had other customers since you came in. And that it might be possible and highly probable that I don't remember what you got the last time you were in here," I told him, speaking to him softly. It was all a lie though. I remembered exactly what he had ordered, how it had been cooked, and everything. A customer that tipped me more than the balance of the check is one that I wouldn't  
easily forget. He cocked an eyebrow at me and smirked slightly.

"Two hamburgers as rare as possible, an order of fries, and a coffee this time. Keep it full and fresh," he dictated his order to me. I nodded and jotted it all down.

"I'll go put that in and be right back with your coffee," I told him and turned away from him.

I headed back to the kitchen and rewrote my order and put it up for Sam to see. I grabbed a clean coffee cup and filled it up. I wasn't sure whether he would want cream or not, I was guessing not, but I grabbed a few creamers anyway and headed over to his table.

"Here you go. I'll be back with your food as soon as I get it cooked," I told him as I set the coffee cup and creamers down on his table.

"You're gonna cook it?" He gruffly asked. I nodded.

"I was cooking today. But Helen insisted that I had to take this customer at his request," I half-teased him.

"I didn't request you," he immediately replied and the slight smile dropped from my face. He must have realized how that sounded because he immediately spoke again. "I mean, I asked if you were here. And then she went and got you. I didn't realize that you weren't taking tables," he quickly backtracked and covered his ass. Another small smile crept onto my face. He looked embarrassed, a look I had never  
imagined could be visible on that face.

"I understand. Sit tight. It'll be out shortly," I explained to him and walked back to the kitchen.

Tucked in my apron after that shift was a $40.00 tip on a $12.57 order, along with a box of cigars. I realized on the walk back to Billy's trailer that the cigars smelled just like him. I savored every one of them even though I thought they were disgusting.


	3. Chapter 3

For disclaimer and notes please see first chapter.

November 2000  
Marie, age 15, 10 months

And so it passed for the next five months. Logan would come in and I would wait on him. It was unspoken that I was his waitress. He always tipped me a lot of money, regardless of the quality of service I gave him. When I asked him once about it he replied, "Save it Marie. You never know when you might need a nest egg to use. Things aren't always so certain," he told me and I could feel his belief and truth in those words.

Both of the waitresses gave me a hard time, but I confided in Helen rather than Tracey. Helen was older and widowed and preached about true love rather than commitment and relationships. She loved the idea of my strange relationship with Logan. She even encouraged it. If things were her way then I would be running off with my truck driving stranger and leaving my trailer park home. Her crazy ideas never failed to amuse me, nor did they completely get dismissed either. Somewhere in the back of my mind my father, at least a part of him, and several others that I had accidentally absorbed along the way, agreed with her. It would be truly in my best interest, in their collective opinion, to leave Billy. Logan seemed my best option.

December 2000  
Marie, age 15, 11 months

It was a Friday afternoon in the middle of winter almost six months since I met Logan when he managed to come in during a fight weekend. He started up the usual chatter the minute I came over.

"So how long you been working here kid?" Logan asked me as I set down a steaming cut of coffee, black – no cream or sugar, in front of him. I shrugged and did a little math.

"Roughly a year and change I suppose. Sam was kind enough to take in a stray such as myself," I replied. It was the two-week interval stop for Logan. He made sure he hit this place each time he went by on a run. He was a quiet man who drove trucks mostly because it afforded him the luxury of not having to deal with too many people. I had learned his name at the end of his second trip. And since then we had slowly started to get to know one another. He always sat in the back corner booth, alone, and facing the diner customers. I had never missed one of his visits.

"Obviously you're not from around here, so what has held you here for this long?" He asked me.

"I…" I started and then cut myself off. I wasn't quite sure that I wanted to answer that or even began to understand why I hadn't moved on.

"That tough a question?" He questioned and I could see the gleam in his eyes, letting me know he was teasing me.

"Yeah," I reluctantly answer. "Maybe I'll have an answer for you next time, " I added with a small smile.

"No rush Marie," he quietly stated.

"I'll be back to check on you in a few. It is kinda crazy in here today, with all the people in town for the fights," I explained and walked away before he could comment.

I didn't like going to the fights. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy the fights; it was just that I hated going with Billy. I was his trophy girl. And if he didn't win, or didn't do well he wasn't friendly or gentle when we went back to his place.

"Come on Marie. We're gonna be late," Billy called from the kitchen area.

"Ok, ok! I'm almost done. Two minutes!" I called out to him as I finished up applying my makeup. He didn't say anything back, so I quickly finished, put my makeup back in my bag, and headed out to where he was waiting. He stood in his usual fight attire. Jeans, a tight black tee shirt, and a winter jacket to keep warm as we walked across town to the fight club. I grabbed my winter jacket which Billy always told me looked like Red Riding Hood's cloak, and shrugged into it.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Yeah," I answered and pulled the door open.

We braved the near freezing temperatures across town. By the time we had made the three-fourths of a mile walk I felt frozen. It would only be worse on the way home when the temperature dropped even further and with Billy stumbling along beside me. He pulled the bar door open and headed in; I followed after him.

Once we were inside and around the corner into the actual bar I pulled my hood down to survey the place. Immediately I recognized many familiar faces and acknowledged them all with smiles and a brief nod of my head. I followed, a few steps behind, Billy over to the bar.

"Hey John, the usual," Billy addressed the bartender. I saw John nod and grab two beers from below the bar. He handed them both to Billy.

"I'll start a tab," he told Billy. Billy nodded and took a long pull from one of the beers, draining a third of it easily. After he swallowed he pulled it away from his mouth and handed it over to me. It was always like that. Billy always drank my beer and John was under strict orders not to serve me unless given permission from Billy. And I had tried to get beer on my won, but the result was never successful. I took the bottle and took my own sip, not too much, but enough to taste and cherish.

"I'll be around," Billy told me and then headed over to the corner where all of his buddies were standing. I nodded to myself and took a look around for a place to sit. I spotted Tracey along at a table and she waved me over.

"Hey hon, how are you tonight?" She asked as I slid into the chair across from her.

"Good. Exhausted. I would prefer being wrapped in a blanket in bed at Billy's with a good book…but…" I trailed off.

"Oh I know hon. A good soak in the tub. Some candles. A trashy romance novel," Tracey gushed and then sighed heavily, blowing her bangs up slightly and off her face.

"Basically," I quietly added and took another swallow of my beer.

We sat there in silence, both not really knowing how to alleviate our bad moods. I picked at the label on my bottle, tearing off small pieces at a time. Frustrated with seemingly everything at the time I quickly swallowed the rest of my beer and set the bottle down on the table. I wiped a stray drop from my lip.

"You do realize you just drank your beer for the night," Tracey pointed out. I nodded and pushed the bottle aside.

"You ever get restless? So bad that you can't get rid of it?" I asked her. She shrugged.

"Perhaps, but I don't get myself worked up over it. I'm stuck here, Marie. I don't worry about things that will never change," she explained. I couldn't hold her gaze after that comment. I refused to accept that I was going to be stuck here forever.

"Here you go, Marie," a female voice cut into my thoughts. I looked up at the owner of the voice and saw Holly, one of the waitresses at the bar, holding a Molson in front of me.

"For me?" I asked, confused.

"Yep," she answered as I took the bottle.

"From Billy?"

"Nope. Compliments of the gentleman in the corner booth," she corrected me and my gaze followed to where she was pointing. My eyes locked on the familiar face of Logan. An easy smile crept onto my face before I could stop it. I raised the bottle slightly, pleased when he did the same. We both took a sip and then I broke eye contact.

"Is that the guy from the diner? "Tracey gasped.

"Yep," I answered and took another swallow. God Molson tasted so much better than the shit that Billy let me drink.

"You're blushing! Marie – you are!" She all but yelled. Several people around us turned briefly and I shot a warning look in her direction.

"Enough Trace. You don't need to yell it to everyone," I hissed at her.

"He might be a tad old for you though," she kept going as thought I hadn't said a thing.

"Tracey!" I reached over and grabbed her wrist. She calmed down at my touch.

"Who might be too old for you?" Billy's voice rolled over me. My back stiffened immediately and color drained from my face. I turned to face him slightly, which is when he saw the new beer in my hand. "And where did you get that?" He added, looking pissed.

"Hey, Billy," Tracey greeted him. He didn't even acknowledge her, but she continued. "It was bought for her. One of her customers in the diner this afternoon sent it to her. I'm positive he meant nothing by it. He didn't know, Billy. And I was just being me. Loud, rowdy, obnoxious, and dumb. I didn't mean nothing by it," she quickly got out all in one long sentence and breath.

"That true Marie?"

"Yeah. He just saw me and sent over a drink cause I helped him find a couple places…gave him good directions and all," I quickly and somehow calmly told him.

"Ok. Well why don't you point me in his direction so I can go thank him," Billy suggested and before I could stop her Tracey pointed in Logan's direction. Billy bent down and gave me a kiss on my lips before walking away. I shot a quick glance at Logan, but he seemed pretty relaxed in his booth – eyes closed and totally unaware of what was about to happen to him. I looked back over at Tracey totally horrified at what she just done.

"Do you even realize what you just did? Billy is going to go over there and give that poor man hell. And I could have possibly avoided that. But you and your big mouth," I hissed at her.

"Look. I got the heat off of you. You can't honestly tell me that you would want Billy over here in your face," Tracey commented.

"But all that guy did was buy me a beer. He doesn't deserve what Billy will say or do to him," I replied. "If you had kept your damn mouth shut we wouldn't even be having this conversation," I bitched and then rose to my feet.

"Where are you going?"

"To clean up your mess," I told her as I headed over to the booth that Billy and his friends had surrounded.

"Marie!" She called after me, but I kept walking. I marched right up to them and pulled Mark and Dan out of the way in order to force my way in.

"Billy, cut it out," I said as I entered the semi-circle around Logan's booth.

"We're just having a friendly conversation, Marie," Billy told me and I raised an eyebrow at his comment and tone.

"Leave him alone. He bought me a beer. So what? He didn't make a move on me. He didn't wound your pride or reputation. He just bought a beer for me. Let it go," I pleaded with him. After my comment Billy turned to totally face me.

"I was just over here informing the guy that you were my girl. And that while I'm sure he meant nothing by it I didn't want him to waste his money buying beer for someone that was already taken," he told me, staring me down the whole time. On any other night I would have caved and backed down but not tonight, not with Billy threatening Logan.

"Then since you have had your little pissing contest and marked me good as your territory let's leave the guy alone," I suggested. I could see his anger mounting, which didn't help when one of his friends snickered at my comment. But just past Billy's shoulder I could see the smirk on Logan's face. And the slight twinkle in his eyes. He had enjoyed my comment evidently.

"All right guys, let's go," he told his little posse. He grabbed my elbow, in a rather tight grip, and led me away with him.

The rest of the evening was shit. I was under the watchful and pissed eye of Billy. I didn't dare even spare a glance in Logan's direction all night.

After the last fight between Billy and a passing by trucker we headed back to Billy's trailer. His friends sat down in the living room right after coming through the door while he drug me down to his – our – bedroom. After he shoved me in the room, he closed and locked the door behind him. I ignored his eyes on my back as I started pulling off my cloak and hung it up to dry off from the snow.

"I'll only warn you this one time Marie. If you ever talk to me like you did tonight in front of my friends and/or in public, you will get a very brutal lesson in respect," he told me. I turned around to face him.

"Excuse me?" I asked him, not believing that those words had actually come out of his mouth. He reached out, grabbing me in a bruising grip on both of my biceps, and pulled me into his face. I gasped at the pain and tried to squirm away, which only made it worse.

"You heard me Marie. Don't fuck with me like that again," he informed me through clenched teeth. I shrunk back in fear away from him, which was exactly what he was waiting for. He smiled at my fear and shoved me away from him. I stumbled, not able to catch myself, and fell on my butt on the floor. "Don't come out of the bedroom. I don't want to see your face for the rest of the evening while my friends are here," he instructed me as he unlocked the door and pulled it open. I was too much in shock to even respond. The door clicked shut behind him and it was minutes before I was able to form a coherent thought.

After I came to my senses I forced myself to my feet and headed for my bags in the closet. I kept most of everything packed so it only took a moment for me to gather my stuff and pull my cloak back on.

I shouldered both of my bags and pulled open the door. I didn't hear any of the guys when I started down the hall. Billy was standing in the kitchen alone drinking a beer when he spotted me.

"Where do you think you're going Marie?" He asked as he took in the bags.

"I'm through with us. No more Billy. I can't do this anymore," I told him and he laughed at me.

"Who do you think will take you in?"

"I don't know Billy, but I'll make due. I did before you found me," I reminded him.

"You do realize I'll ruin you if you try to leave me," he threatened me. I shrugged at his comment.

"Just get out of my way Billy. We're through. I'll get the hell out of your trailer," I snapped at him and went to move around him towards the door. But on the way by he grabbed hold of my arm and shoved me roughly towards the couch. I had to drop my bags in order to catch myself as I was colliding with the couch. I hit my head on the back of the couch and curled up, trying to prevent further damage.

I didn't get much of a chance to absorb the shock of being tossed into the couch. Billy grabbed me by my hair and pulled me down off the couch onto the floor. I tried to crawl away, but he kept a death grip on my hair. I couldn't move at all. He squatted down behind me and pulled my head back at an awkward angle to talk in my ear.

"You think you are such a tough little bitch don't you? Big bad Marie. Talking back to me in the middle of the bar to save her diner customer. What the hell was that all about, Marie? You don't know him. You don't owe him a thing. But yet you just go all protective and attack me over him. So what? He getting free dessert at the diner that you don't bother to offer me at home?" He hissed in my ear, still pulling back my head, putting an awful strain on my neck.

"Let me go, Billy," I managed to get out.

"Let me go, Billy," he mimicked me, mocking me completely. I struggled, but only succeeded in pulling my hair. He rose to his feet and pulled me up to my feet as well, using my hair to drag me up. "You are going to learn Marie that you can't just say shit like that to me out in public," he informed me and spun me around, finally letting go of my hair. I was relieved that the pressure on my hair disappeared, but the fist connecting with my face moments later was a complete shock. I stumbled to the side, trying to keep my footing. He punched me in the face again, this time I couldn't keep my feet under me and I fell to the floor. My head connected with the coffee table corner on the way down and it cut a deep gash from the corner of my right eye all the way up to my hairline. I gingerly touched my head and came away with blood – my blood. I tried to get my feet, but Billy beat me to it by digging his fingers into my armpits and lifting me up roughly. After I was on my feet he grabbed my shoulders and tossed me back onto the couch. Again, I smashed my head and groaned slightly.

I didn't get the chance to fend him off again because he sat down on top of my stomach, pinning me down. Then he reached for both of my arms, and pinned them with one of his own above my head. The scene was too familiar and too much of a flashback. And I began to panic but it didn't help my situation.

"I don't know what you see in him, because honestly Marie, he is just some old pervert that is trying to get some poor young chick. And you fell for it," he yelled at me. "And so what? You just think that you are going to leave me? Run off with your little truck driver man? That what you think you're going to do? Well, Marie, sweetie, I hate to tell you, but you've got another thing coming!" He continued, yelling in my face the whole time. I struggled terrified, attempting to fight back and kick at him, but he eluded my fists and feet while he continued to sit on me, fully immobilizing me.

"Get the fuck off of me Billy. I don't know what you think you are doing but it isn't funny. This isn't cool!" I screamed in his face.

"I have waited this whole long time for you Marie. For the past year you have been nothing but a tease. Flirting with me. Leading me on. But never fully going through with anything that you hint at. Perhaps what you were just waiting for was someone to make the first move and follow through with it. I think you like it rough. And I think you are just waiting to submit to someone," he rambled on and started pulling open my cloak, and ripped the buttons off the front of my shirt. I started screaming, nothing coherent, just anything and everything. But he didn't stop. He ripped my blouse completely open and his hands slid to my bra.

Again for the second time in my life I felt my mutation kick in. It wasn't as slow as it was with my father. Rather this time it was abrupt and came out of nowhere fast. I felt his thoughts, his hatred, his embarrassment, his resentment towards Logan, his insecurities, his passion for me, etc. I felt it all. And for those few seconds while his life flowed into me I understood Billy better than I would have ever just spending our lives together. I managed to slide out from underneath Billy before his thoughts became too much. He fell to the floor next to me, trembling, and I could see his veins protruding from his face and arms. His thoughts were overwhelming and it took several minutes for me to force him to the back of my mind.

A quick once over assured me that he was breathing, albeit not in a regular pattern, but enough for me not to be concerned over his well-being. My skin was crawling, itchy, and I ran my hands up and down my arms, trying to rid myself of the feeling, but to no avail. I hastily pulled my blouse back together, buttoning what few buttons were still intact. My cloak was pulled on next around my body, my hood coming down to partially cover my face. I cast a final glance down at Billy trembling on the floor.

"Don't bother coming after me," I told him, knowing that he probably wouldn't hear me anyway. "Good-bye Billy. I hope you find your way," I whispered to him and grabbed my bags from where they lay on the floor near the couch. I shouldered them and then headed for the door. I walked out of the trailer without a backwards glance. Everything I wanted to know or needed to know was behind me. Billy would fare better without me then he would ever have had I stayed.

That night nightmares of my past with my father plagued my sleep. Flashbacks, whole scenes, replayed themselves on repeat over the course of the night. It was horrific to have had to go through the first time, not to mention to have to remember it after the events that had just happened to me.

The nightmare-memories always started with me remembering with burning clarity the exact moment my mutation manifested.


	4. Chapter 4

For disclaimer and notes see first chapter.

April 1999  
Marie, age 14, 3 months

My father had been gone for most of the evening. I didn't expect him home until the morning if not till the afternoon. Even though it was a Friday night I was sitting at home, alone. I had a large report due on Tuesday and I wanted to get it all done before school on Monday.

I finished up all I was going to get done in that evening around midnight and put all my schoolwork and supplies away before I climbed into bed. I woke up several hours later to the sound of someone stumbling around the trailer. I slowly crept out of bed and cracked my bedroom door to see what was going on. Through the crack I could see my father stumbling around the kitchen area. He was drunk. I didn't even need to smell it on him to be able to tell. After determining that he was alone I went to close my door, but he must have heard me. He turned around so quickly that he almost fell over, grabbing the counter to save himself.

"Marie. I see you Marie," he called out. I sighed, pissed at myself for getting caught. "Come out here and sit with me, Marie," he called to me. I tucked my hair behind my ears and pulled the door open enough for me to squeeze through.

"Come out here and sit with your Daddy," he slurred. I warily slunk down the trailer hallway and out to the main room.

"What do you want, Dad? It's kinda late," I questioned.

"What? You can't make the goddamn time to sit with your own father?" he yelled at me. I flinched at his tone and didn't continue any further.

"I can. I just wanted to ask. It isn't a problem. I'm awake. Here to sit with you," I quickly replied and forced a small smile and prayed it didn't look as pained or forced as it felt.

"Come sit with me," he told me as he fell down onto the couch. Once I was within reach he pulled me down next to him. I fell onto the couch awkwardly and a little too close to him for my own comfort. But before I could move he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, trapping me against his body. I struggled not to gag as he breathed on me. The smell of stale beer on his warm breath was nauseating.

"Have I told you lately just how beautiful you are? Because you are. You have grown up to be such a beautiful woman," he told me as he moved his face closer.

"Thanks," I muttered to him, trying to pull away from him.

"Very beautiful," he murmured and then before I could stop him he pushed me down on the couch. I tried to get away but he was stronger. His body pressed down on me, trapping me between him and the couch. "Such a beautiful woman. So reliable. So dependable," he told me as he trapped my wrists above my head. "So much better than every other bitch that has stepped into my life," he spoke in my ear.

And then the horrible part started. I couldn't stop him as his free hand started to roam all over my body. I kicked and I screamed, and I tried with everything I had in me to get free and away from him. But for the next several minutes, or possibly longer, he had the advantage. And I remembering wishing, wishing that there was something I could do to get him off of me. It was only moments later that I felt the pull for the very first time. The intense flood of emotions, energy, and another's life flowing into me. It overwhelmed me and I had absolutely no idea where it came from. I didn't get a chance to fully examine the situation because my father's body rolled off of me, off the couch, and landed with a solid thud on the floor. I ignored his twitching body and tried to deal with the information that had just invaded my body. Too many emotions were pinging around in my mind, but the one that made me throw up was lust. Lust for me. And I saw myself from his eyes. Saw the way he was looking at me and how he was feeling about me. And worse still was what exactly he had in mind to do to me. And he would have done it had he not been stopped. I didn't give any thought to exactly how I had been able to do what I had just done. I just tried to stop my rolling stomach from throwing up any more.

Once my stomach settled down enough I drug/dragged the back of my hand across my mouth, wiping away what was left. My mouth felt disgusting and dry. It would have to wait. Other matters, such as my father's body slightly covered in my vomit twitching on the floor below me, were more important. I watched as his eyes rolled around underneath his closed eyelids and his limbs were convulsing out of control. I didn't bother to even make sure that he was still breathing or even alive. Instead I crawled down the couch and rose to shaking legs just a few feet from his body. I forced myself forward through the kitchen/dining/lounging area of the trailer and down the tiny hall that led to my bedroom.

I never fully understood people when they said they were just going through the motions. But I packed, numbly, all my clothes and treasured belongings that I could into a single duffel bag. My possessions just barely filled the bag. On my way out I grabbed my stash of money. Not much, but I realized that my $300 was going to have to keep me going for awhile.

So it was with that $300 in my pocket, a duffel bag of possessions on my shoulder, and a set of memories and emotions that weren't mine that I walked out of my trailer park home.

November 2001  
Marie, age 16, 10 months

It was eleven months later when I pulled up in Laughlin City. The trucker got out and slammed his door shut. It startled me enough to wake me from my nap. I looked around, and noticed Bobby walking around the front of his truck. I opened the door and tossed my bag out. I climbed out of the rig a moment later and shut the door. He reached up and locked it behind me.

"End of the road, kid," he told me and started to walk away.

"Where are we? I thought you said you would take me as far as Laughlin City," I replied, looking around at the shit hole that he had dumped us in.

"This is Laughlin City," he called over his shoulder as he headed towards the bar. I wrinkled my nose as I surveyed the place. It definitely wasn't what I had anticipated it being. But it was as good a place as any. A cold gush of wind managed to get into my cloak and I shivered despite my layers. I reached down and grabbed my bag and started the trek towards the bar that Bobby had just entered.

The parking lot was crowded, not an empty spot to be seen. It was probably the only place in town that provided any sort of entertainment to the locals and the meandering truckers. I ignored the sign stating only those legally old enough were allowed to enter the establishment. I had been in my fair share of bars prior to leaving Billy and even more afterwards. Inside the bar was more crowded than the parking lot. I kept my hood up, hiding my face as much as possible from prying eyes. In the middle of the bar a metal cage had been erected. I walked around the bar, drawn towards the cage. I managed to come in right as one of the cage fighters was knocked out. Remaining on the inside was a shirtless man, standing off to the side, back to me, drinking out of a glass. He disregarded the crowd and the announcer as they both yelled around him.

"Gentlemen!" The announcer called out through the microphone, gathering everyone's attention. The crowd roared as they were addressed. I stopped a few feet from the cage, bewildered at the entire situation. Cage fighting seemed to be a thing that happened in every bar. Not just the ones in my original neck of the woods. "In all my years I've never seen anything like this," he pumped up the crowd. I could hear the booing start, probably directed at the man standing alone in the cage with the announcer. "Are you going to let this man walk away with your money?" He questioned the crowd. And the crowd responded with a loud chorus of "No!". And then like it happened when Billy fought some dumb trucker rose to his feet and opened his mouth.

"I'll fight him!" the huge guy called out, cracking his neck and his rolling his shoulders around. He was a huge guy. He looked to be several inches taller than the man in the cage, not to mention about fifty to seventy pounds heavier. The remaining "Billy" in me automatically sizing up the potential opponent, finding his flaws, his possible weaknesses, and determining that overall the challenger wasn't as much of a bad ass as he imagined himself to be.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Our savior!" the announcer greeted the challenger as he stepped into the ring. He announcer covered the microphone and whispered something to the new man before stepping out and closing the cage door behind him.

The challenger waited only a moment after the bells chimed to rush the man, who still stood back to him. A brutal kick to the champion's kidney region was delivered. And as the man was turning to get away from the cage and face his challenger the man landed a solid right hook. It was followed by another punch to the face that knocked the champion to the floor. The challenger wasted no time as he started to kick the man in the ribs, two times before backing off to regain his composure. It was enough time for the champion to get back on his knees and turn to face the man.

The challenger rushed him and started to throw a punch, which the champion met with a punch of his own. The two fists collided and the clear sound of bones breaking could be heard over the roar of the crowd. The challenger bent over, and clutched his broken hand, trying desperately to get away from the champion. But the champion didn't relent and didn't allow the man to flee. He took the steps necessary to close the gap between them and landed a solid left hook, knocking the man back into the cage. As the challenger bounced off the cage the champion took the time to crack his own neck before head butted in the challenger. The sound of their heads colliding was nauseating. The challenger fell to his knees a moment later and did not rise.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Tonight's winner and still King of the Cage… Wolverine!" The announcer told the crowd. They booed him, screaming out obscenities. The man didn't seem to mind, or even acknowledge the crowd. He just picked up his shirt off the floor and walked out of the cage, past the announcer, past the crowd, and disappeared somewhere in the distance.

The entire time I couldn't shake the fact that every single movement of his felt familiar.

I made my way to the only empty stool at the bar. I didn't bother to get up for the rest of the evening. The bartender was kind enough to give me a glass of water, which he kept full and cool for me throughout the rest of the short evening. I remained at that bar stool even as the rest of the customers filed out and the crew started to clean up. It was freezing cold outside and I planned on staying inside, out of the cold, until he kicked me out.

A figure appeared to my left, walking out from the back of the bar, and sliding onto a stool a few down from me.

"I'll take a beer," he told the bartender. The bartender didn't even acknowledge his request but he silently went about getting the man his beer as he continued to clean up behind the bar. He puffed on his cigar, waiting for the beer to be placed before him. Him and the bartender seemed to have a comfortable rapport and I realized that the fighter must fight here often. As the bartender slid the beer to the man I realized exactly why I thought I knew him.

My heart stopped beating for more than a brief moment when I recognized him. Logan. This was probably one of his regular stops on his routes. I didn't mean to stare, but I couldn't help myself. He looked over at me, raising his beer to his lips while he checked me out. The beer never made it to his lips. He stopped, beer in midair, as his eyes landed on me. I saw recognition there, relief as well, and something else. Something so fleeting that I couldn't discern what it really was or if it was imagined.

The moment passed silently between us and Logan brought the beer up to his lips and took a healthy swig before sitting down at the bar, several stools down from me. I looked down, blushing slightly, embarrassed that I had thought seeing him again would mean something.

"Didn't think you would make it out on your own, kid," he finally broke the silence of the bar.

"I'm not a kid, and I've been making it on my own since I was born. A short stint between places isn't something I can't handle," I shot back and he looked amused, slightly at least.

I was about to reply when two men appeared behind him. One was the last guy that Logan had knocked out. His face was a mass of bruises and he looked like he was in pain.

"You owe me some money," he informed Logan.

"Come on man, don't do this," the guy's friend tried to warn him off. But the guy was determined to get his say in.

"No man takes a beating like that without a mark to show for it," the fighter kept pushing.

"Come on buddy, this isn't going to be worth it," again his friend tried to pull him off of Logan and away from the situation. But again the fighter ignored his friend and leaned down, next to Logan's ear.

"I know what you are," the guy whispered in Logan's ear. Logan didn't seem too fazed as he continued to puff on his cigar for a moment.

"Better leave before you lose something else," I heard Logan warn the guy. And it seemed like the fighter's friend was going to be able to pull him away. But at the last second the fighter pulled a knife from his pocket. I saw the metal glistening in the light and screamed to warn Logan, praying that I wasn't too late.

"Look out!" I yelled, and Logan spun to his left, coming up off the bar stool and spinning around to face the man. He moved so fast that the guy never stood a chance. Logan had him pinned up against a wall with two huge long metal claws against his neck and I watched in total fascination and amazement as a third, middle claw, slowly started to emerge from Logan's knuckles and head toward the guy's throat.

The loading of a shotgun brought my attention back to the bartender. He had moved right behind Logan and moved the gun towards him.

"Get out of my bar freak," the bartender told Logan as he put the barrel of the shotgun a few inches away from him head. I was silently praying that Logan would just back down, but quicker than the guy could pull the trigger he snapped his free left hand back. Three more blades appeared from his knuckles and sliced through the shotgun barrel, leaving the bartender weaponless.

Time froze at that point. I could feel my heart racing beneath my breast. The heavy, scared, breathing of the fighter, his friend, and the bartender all seemed overbearingly loud in the deadly silence of the bar. I waited, unsure of what to do or say or anything.

Just as suddenly as Logan had pulled them out his claws retracted back into his knuckles and he moved. He walked out of the bar without even so much as a glance back in my direction. Neither of the three guys moved even after seconds passed since Logan's departure. I looked around, everyone else that was left was frozen in their spot as well. I realized that should they suddenly discover that I was different as well then it would not be a happy outcome.

I slid off the bar stool, grabbing my bag from the floor, and headed out after him. I just hoped that I hadn't been too slow. Barreling through the front door and into the cold I started looking around but couldn't spot him. I ran, through the slippery snow, further into the parking lot. Spinning around, searching all angles for him. But it was useless. He had disappeared before I got outside. He had probably stormed off, flooring his vehicle, pissed off about the scene that had just occurred.

I was so caught up in my thinking about him leaving that I didn't even notice the truck, with the camper on the back, pull up along side of me. The side door was pushed open.

"Get in, kid," a male voice instructed me. I jumped slightly, the voice being the first thing that alerted me to the presence of the vehicle. I took a few steps backwards, wary of the unfamiliar truck. "Marie, get in," he called out and relief flooded over me. Logan. He hadn't left me. I hurried to the truck and tossed my bag inside on the floor, and climbed in. I hadn't even gotten the chance to shut the door when he was pulling off and out of the bar parking lot.

"I thought…" I started and then trailed off. He didn't say anything and I took a deep breath and started again. "I thought you had left me," I quietly stated.

"Not anytime soon," he replied just as quietly and I looked over at him in shock. The answer was enough for me to relax though. The connection made. Logan wasn't going to let me go.


End file.
